Sunday, August 09, 2009

A doorway into thanks

For terns and their fast wingsand the silvery fish that vanish beneath them.

For the little that I haveand less now, even, that you left me with.

For the oddly striped and sunblockedand our ritual weekend-wash in the sea.

For my booksand your eye that didn't discern their value.

For this memoried vesseland its wealth of beauty in bloom.

It draws my eye from what's been broken and dusted over;a greasy black powder to name my fear.

For the comfort of neighborsand the part of me, despite this, that wants to feel ok here.

For the perfect pink end to this dayand its voices that animate the darkest corners of my heart.

For your lack of any real maliceand the small brown bunny left in peace to be a witness.

For all the familiar things that mock me, unseenand the Kingbird's solemn regard.

For having no one, really, to run toand surviving, anyway, this first of disasters.

*This post was created on a Mac!... the only happy result of my laptop and most all of my camera gear being stolen early this week. I'm working my way through being angry... and trying to find that thankful place in my heart again.

19 comments:

We were robbed twice .. most terrible feeling I ever remember. Onece was at night when people broke into the garage. The next night I sat out in the shadows for a long time with a baseball bat, hoping they would come back!

Heck ... somebody stole a license plate off our car once ... while we were visiting Canada.

So very sad to hear your news. Please know that you are in our thoughts and prayers. It's a horrible feeling to have. I hope that it is offset by the knowledge that there are many, many people that love you ...

This is such a beautiful, touching poem. I would like to copy it for my brother who had a similar experience very recently. The balance in your words knows both what was taken and what was left behind.

I started reading your post, thinking--hmmm, wonder what poet Laura is using here (as you do sometimes when you skilfully blend image and word).And then I get to the end--you are the poet. And the precipitant of your words is a violation of your abode. You take my breath away.And I am sending protective thoughts your way--and to the brown bunny as well.

Not quite the same, but I had a car stolen while on business in Rhode Island, after a week of camping in the Berkshires. The anger I felt towards the people who did this, not just for the theft but for the disruption of my life. I would of written a much different poem.

The key difference, to me anyway, is the sense of violation when it is your home. So how are you doing?

On that same trip I spent a night in jail. The bed was very hard. And they made sure that I had no shoelaces, so as not to hang myself.

Rhode Island is an evil, evil place.

And I echo the sediments about your post. Very well written, and all the more so considering the circumstances.

My heart just sank in my chest when I read your post. All the cliche responses run through my head but I can't seem to think of anything to say that would be truly uplifting or to "make it all better." I am so sorry you had to experience this and hoping each day gets better (and take your time getting through *all* the emotions).

You are one gracious woman! What a terrific attitude and a moving poem. There is at least some comfort in the fact that the idiots wanted only electronic items for a quick sale and did not destroy items that mean so much to you.

My heart goes out to you. I know that despite your great attitude, some feeling of violation remains and for that I am truly sorry.